


you got it if you want it

by zenstrike



Series: you’re lucky that’s what i like [21]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Love, Soup, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 09:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenstrike/pseuds/zenstrike
Summary: Keith and Lance take care of Hunk.





	you got it if you want it

It was stuffy in Hunk’s building, tucked away on the far side of campus and always smelling like pizza. He was used to the noise and shuffle and bustle of the upper floors of the engineering complexes, and the noise and shuffle and bustle of the lower floors with the large lecture theatres and the cafeteria. On Fridays, he had a morning lab and afternoon lectures and sometimes poked his head into the department offices to hear any updates on summer internships or the redesign of the engineering co-op program or— well. He went through a list of things. On Fridays, Hunk finished his week and bounded down the stairs and usually met Lance on quad or met Keith and Lance at their apartment. Decompressing with them usually got him through the day, usually got him through a long week.

He was having trouble focusing.

In lab, he tried to imagine sitting between Lance and Keith and listening to them bicker about what movie to put on and then the easy way one or both of them would lean against Hunk or let Hunk lean against them. He even tried to think about holding their little hamster, with her twitchy little face and her soft fur and her little round ears— But there was an ache in his bones and a pounding above his eyes and he noticed halfway through his lab that his nose was dripping onto his work.

Hunk swallowed.

He wiped at his calculator.

He chewed the end of his pencil.

(Pencils that were always miraculously—unchewed by the time Monday came around. Keith thought Hunk didn’t notice him sliding new mechanical pencil packages into Hunk’s backpack. Keith thought he was sneaky. He was not. Hunk loved him for it.)

By the end of lab he was sweating. He had chewed off the purple clip of his pencil and was now clutching it in one hand, just to feel the shape of it against his palm, as he made his way downstairs and out the front doors of the complex. It was cold outside. No—it was cool. Winter was dying. Sunlight was shining.

Hunk huffed and pulled open the front of his coat and sat on a bench near the doors and breathed in a long, cold breath of air and felt it fill his lungs and chill his flushed skin. He poked the broken clip against his cheek and frowned.

He tried to clear his throat, but that hurt.

He tried to shake his head, but that hurt, too.

“Oh no,” Hunk said.

He pulled his backpack onto his lap and clutched it tight against his chest and leaned his head on the top of it and closed his eyes and tried to think:  _ nope _ , not today. Being sick would mean—way too many things. A tougher afternoon. A muddled head. An unhappy appetite. Going back to his dorm room instead of sitting, happy, on Keith and Lance’s couch with Lance and Keith and Red.

Hunk huffed again and opened his eyes and almost screamed.

“You look like crap,” Keith said, leaning in.

“I’m fine!” Hunk croaked out. “Go away! You shouldn’t be here you—arts student.” He deflated. He squeezed his backpack.

Keith blinked at him, and then smiled. “What’s-her-name from your lab messaged me.”

“Huh?”

Keith pulled his phone from his pocket and leaned back. He read: “‘Hi Keith, I’m Rebecca from Hunk’s lab and he looks like crap so could you come and help him?’” He lowered the phone. “And you do look like crap.”

“Am I hallucinating this?”

“Nope.”

Hunk’s head was spinning. “What is happening?”

Keith’s shoulders slumped a little and something shifted over his face that made him look a little—soft, Hunk supposed. Soft Keith, looking at him and feeling bad for him. Hunk squeezed his backpack a little tighter.

“I’m taking you home,” Keith said, slow and gentle.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Keith tugged at Hunk’s backpack until Hunk gave it up. “Come on, Hunk.”

“I feel fine,” Hunk said, and sniffed.

“Uh huh.”

“I have class.”

“Uh huh.”

Hunk frowned. He rubbed the pencil clip between his fingers.

And he sneezed and it hurt so much he thought he’d die.

“Home,” Keith said, patting his arm. And then: “Bless you.”

“Sometimes you’re cute,” Hunk sniffed.

“You’re definitely sick.”

Keith ushered Hunk to his feet and carried Hunk’s backpack and it was all very sweet. Hunk wobbled a bit as he stood and Keith told him to hold onto his arm and off they went, avoiding ice patches and walking close together.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Hunk mumbled.

Keith just looked at him and smiled and pulled a napkin from his perpetual stash. “Your face is leaking.”

Hunk groaned. Keith patted his hand.

It wasn’t until they were halfway across main quad that Hunk realized they were going the wrong direction.

“We’re going to our place,” Keith said, frowning at him.

Hunk sniffed. He sneezed again. Keith patted his hand again. “Res is closer—”

“Res is dumb,” Keith muttered. “We’re going home.”

“Res is  _ not _ dumb.”

Another pat.

“We’ll take the bus part of the way,” Keith said, as though that was a compromise.

Hunk sneezed again. And maybe he swore because the pain was  _ ridiculous _ but Keith didn’t say anything about it.

At the bus loop, Keith pulled Hunk’s ID from his chest pocket and when he flashed it at the bus driver they said: “Your friend looks sick.”

Hunk sneezed—again.

Keith pushed him towards the back of the bus.

“How did this happen?” Hunk moaned, pressing into the corner of the back row. The window was cool against his head. “I was fine. I got my flu shot.”

“You’ll feel better soon,” Keith said, shuffling in next to him. He dumped their backpacks on the next seat. “Lance says he’ll bring soup.”

“You told Lance?”

“Yes?”

Hunk hunched further into the corner and pulled his jacket collar higher around his face. “Lance is gonna fret.”

“Probably.”

Hunk eyed Keith. “You’re fretting.”

“How are you feeling?” Keith said instead of acknowledging Hunk like a human.

“Fine,” Hunk mumbled.

“Uh huh.”

“Crappy.”

“Better.”

Hunk sniffed and flinched at new shot of pain between his eyes. “I feel disgusting.”

“We’ll get you into bed soon.”

“I could be in my own bed by now,” Hunk mumbled. Keith leaned against the seat in front of them, still watching Hunk and blinking slowly. He looked a little tired. A little pale. Maybe  _ he _ was the sick one. “I could be warm and happy.”

“I’m not leaving you in res while you’re sick.”

“That’s where I  _ live _ .”

“It’s a Friday,” Keith said quickly. “It’s going to be loud. The bros are going to yell a lot and drink a lot and probably bang on your door.”

Hunk frowned.

“And Lance is bringing soup home.”

Hunk supposed that didn’t sound so bad. He sniffed some more and Keith sat up and rubbed a halfway-calming circle against his shoulder.

“You’ll be a lot happier with us,” Keith said quietly and Hunk nodded, a little less reluctantly than he’d admit to, and slumped against the window. 

He dozed a little when the bus started moving, his focus drifting in and out of sleep. Keith was a comforting presence next to him, saying Hunk’s name softly when Hunk snapped out of his daze and rubbing Hunk’s arm, gentle and soothing. Hunk knew, objectively, that the ride to the stop nearest to Keith and Lance’s building was barely ten minutes, but it seemed that he had been asleep for a long time when Keith finally helped him up and guided him carefully off the bus.

“Almost there,” Keith said, hoisting both their backpacks onto his shoulders. “Come on.”

“Okay,” Hunk sniffed. “I’m good.”

“You’re doing great.”

“So great.”

“Yup.”

He leaned a little heavily on Keith, he knew, but Keith didn’t complain and just focused on keeping them going. 

“Sorry,” Hunk muttered when he released Keith and leaned against the door while Keith dug for his keys.

“What?” Keith paused and looked up long enough to scowl. “Don’t.”

“Can’t help it.”

“It’s not your fault you’re sick.”

“It probably is,” Hunk sighed, drooping heavily. Keith made a triumphant little noise when he found the keys. “I probably brought this on myself—somehow. Too much—tea, maybe. Too much time outside. Too much time in other people’s breathing spaces.”

“Oh, Hunk,” Keith said and yanked open the door. “Come on.”

“I should have stayed in bed today.”

“You’re doing fine.”

They took the elevator and it was maybe the first time they had ever been in the elevator—no, there was the day when Keith and Lance bought their couch and they had struggled to get it in and out of the building; and then that time they bought too many groceries and Lance had insisted that stairs were a bad idea and the three of them had groaned together as the numbers ticked one-two-three.

“Third floor,” said the crackling elevator voice.

Hunk stumbled out with Keith right behind him.

“Almost there,” Keith said again.

Hunk just groaned.

He counted seven steps, and thirty seconds, and then they were in the apartment and Keith was dropping their bags on the floor by the door and Hunk was thinking about falling over.

“I’m sick,” he sighed.

“Yup,” Keith said and took Hunk by the elbow. “Bed time.”

Hunk kicked off his boots and let Keith led him down the little hallway. Red squeaked when they came into the bedroom, and then one more time when Hunk face-planted onto the bed.

Hunk groaned.

“Get under the blankets,” Keith said behind him. “I’ll be right back.”

Hunk groaned again.

He heard Keith rifle through the bathroom cupboard, muttering to himself. Hunk huffed against the bed sheets and then sat up long enough to shrug out of his coat and scramble under the duvet.

Lance and Keith’s pillows were always so nice. And they always smelt good.

“How often do you guys do laundry?” Hunk mumbled when Keith came back.

Keith sat at the edge of the bed. Hunk twisted to look at him. “Take your medicine,” Keith said eventually.

“You’re not a doctor.”

“I can read. It’s one of my many talents.”

Hunk sat back up again.

Keith watched him swallow the pills and suffer through drinking the rest of the glass of water, then he pushed Hunk back against the bed and settled a box of Lance’s name-brand tissues on the pillow next to him.

Hunk blinked up at him.

Keith tucked the blankets tighter around him.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Hunk said eventually, rolling onto his side.

“I’m glad I did,” Keith mumbled. “Or you would have just gone back to res.”

“That’s where I  _ live _ !”

Keith hummed and tucked the blankets some more and then huffed a long sigh. “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll wake you up when Lance gets home.”

“I’m going to drool all over your sheets.”

“Such is life.”

Hunk smiled and Keith shook his head and a few minutes later, Hunk was fast asleep.

***

He woke up briefly and knew that Keith was sitting on the bed next to him, probably reading, or considering his place in the universe.

Lance was in the room.

“Is he okay?”

“I think so. Just a cold, or something.”

“He’s breathing weird.”

“His nose is all stuffed up.”

Lance laughed, quiet and far away. “You’re so good with words.”

“I don’t know if he’s eaten.”

“We can wake him up. I do have soup, nice and hot.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m awake,” Hunk mumbled, or tried to, but what came out was mostly gibberish. He burrowed into the bed.

Someone touched his forehead, gentle and quick, and Hunk fell back asleep.

***

He woke up again to Lance shaking his shoulder lightly.

Hunk groaned.

“Keith’s heating the soup back up,” Lance said quietly. “You should eat.”

“Maybe,” Hunk said. He twisted and looked up at Lance, leaning over him with one knee on the bed and a hand still on Hunk’s shoulder. He was smiling wide, and he seemed bright in the darkness of the bedroom. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lance’s smile grew. “Want to get up? Just for a bit?”

Hunk sniffed. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He groaned again. “I should go home.”

“You are home.”

Hunk scowled and Lance just shrugged, apparently without shame. He pulled back as Hunk scrambled to sit up, his head aching with every movement.

“I’m going to get you guys sick,” he mumbled and licked his dry lips. He sniffed. He coughed, once.

“We’re tough.” Lance stood and stretched his arms over his head with a yawn, and then settled his hands on his hips and looked down at Hunk for a long moment. “You know...if you try to leave, Keith’ll tackle you.”

“He would not.” Hunk paused. “I’m bigger than him.”

“Good luck with that.”

***

Hunk stayed.

He slumped at the table and listened to Lance tell him about his day and suffered Keith glaring until he finished his soup. They forced him back into bed and he took a couple of more pills and then Keith and Lance crowded on either side of him on the bed.

They watched movies until Hunk was asleep again, snoring loudly through his stuffy nose, and when he woke in the morning Lance was slumped awkwardly against the headboard and Keith had burrowed into Hunk’s back and Red was running on her wheel.

Hunk felt a little better, in the morning. But he went back to sleep anyways, comfortable between his friends.

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from that’s what i like by bruno mars again aldfjalsdjfsflajsf  
> aldkjfaldjs  
> djf;sad
> 
> hunk i love you


End file.
